


Performing For Coach Hale

by Flamingoboy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Body Hair, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Exhibitionism, Inappropriate Erections, Locker Room, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Paddling, Spanking, Sweat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:02:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25244341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamingoboy/pseuds/Flamingoboy
Summary: Stiles gets himself into a bit of trouble with his lacrosse coaches.  He receives corporal punishment, and ends up with more of an experience than he bargained for!
Relationships: Bobby Finstock/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 3
Kudos: 55





	Performing For Coach Hale

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I know California isn't one of the U.S. states which allows corporal punishment in schools. And, yes, I know that in the states where coaches -can- paddle students, it doesn't happen like this. 
> 
> But this is my fantasy AU, so anything goes. 
> 
> In this universe, werewolves exist, but Scott hasn't been bitten. None of the students, nor Coach Finstock, are aware of supernatural creatures.
> 
> This is also based on a story of mine I wrote for another site, but I realized it could work as a Sterek fic, so I modified it to post here.

It’s a Thursday afternoon and the Beacon Hills lacrosse team just got back into the locker room after lacrosse practice. I head over to my locker, drenched in sweat, and get ready to strip off my practice gear before everyone hits the showers. My friends Scott and Isaac have lockers next to mine. As usual, Scott's out of his clothes faster than anyone. I think he's a little bit of an exhibitionist, but I've never really talked about it with him. He bends over to grab something out of his bag, and I'm given a full view of his bare ass, and the sweaty hair growing between his cheeks. I can't help but go for an opportunity when it presents itself, so I playfully slap him on the ass.

"Hey! Stiles!" He laughs, jerking up in surprise. He playfully punches me on the arm.  
  
"Ah, don't complain. You know you love it, Scotty!" I tease him.

I’ve got a reputation for being the class clown, and I’ve always liked making people laugh. Combined with my general clumsiness and curiosity, I've had my fair share of run-ins with teachers and the principals at school, but nothing too bad. Since my dad's the Beacon Hills Sheriff, I still know better than to get myself in any _serious_ trouble.

I peel my jersey and t-shirt up and off over my head. When I do that, I get a whiff of my own pits. Oh yeah... I definitely need a shower. I bend down and peel off my socks, slide my shorts down, and then finally my jockstrap. I stand back up, totally naked.

I used to be really shy and embarrassed about taking my clothes off in the locker room, but now that I'm a senior, I’ve grown pretty confident in my body over the past year. I used to be skinny and lanky, but I’ve been working out a lot more, and my muscles have developed. I've also grown a little patch of hair on the center of my chest. It really makes me feel like a man, especially since I've just turned 18. I blushed with pride the first time my dad saw it and commented on my development. I just wish it would help me attract some girls... especially Lydia. Recently, I’ve discovered I don’t mind showing off in front of guys, too. I like the locker room because I get to hang out naked for a while without the risk of guys knowing I might be enjoying myself.

Now that I’ve got all my clothes off, I keep joking around with my friends. I reach over and twist Isaac’s nipple.

"Oww!" he yelps, laughing. Suddenly, I hear Coach Finstock call my name from across the room. I see Coach Hale standing next to him, glaring at me.

“BILINSKI! Get over here!” he yells. I roll my eyes. He never gets my name right. What could he possibly want? Twisting Isaac’s nipple was just a joke... It didn’t hurt him!

Coach has been on a real power trip, lately. He’s under a lot of pressure for us to win more games. We’re not the best, and Scott’s severe asthma doesn’t do much to help the team, either. The school board hired an assistant, Coach Hale, to help Coach Finstock. Together, the two of them are real pieces of work, and they’re really pushing us hard to win.

I don’t know Coach Hale well enough yet to figure him out completely, but what I _have_ figured out so far is, he’s hot. Smoking hot. He’s only a few years older than us (probably in his early-twenties), and this dude is _ripped._ He’s changed his shirt a few times in the locker room, and I think I was a little too obvious with my staring. I don’t know how, but one time I got really excited and suddenly his eyes locked onto me from all the way across the room! How would he know to hone in on _me?_ I know it's impossible, but it's almost like he could hear my thoughts or my excitement. He glanced me up and down and turned away with huff, heading back into the coaches' office. Nothing else happened, but let’s just say I had _a lot_ to think about when I was alone in my room that night!

"BILINSKI! I said get your ass over here. I want to see you. NOW!" Coach Finstock yells again, snapping me out of my thoughts.

Fine, I think. If he wants to ‘see’ me, he’s gonna ‘see’ me! I smirk as I swagger across the locker room, buck naked, and stand in front of him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Coach hollers.

“You said you wanted to _see_ me, Coach! Here I am!” I exclaim, stretching my arms out and turning around in a full circle. I grin as the other guys in the locker room all laugh. They're getting a real eye-full of me, muscles, moles, pubes and all, and I'm loving the attention.

“Fine, if you want to be a little show-off, we’ll do this right here,” Coach replies.

“Do what?” I ask him.

Coach Hale hands his phone to Coach Finstock, who holds it up to my eyes.

“Something’s been brought to my attention, today,” Coach Finstock starts. “You want to explain this to me?”

I look at the screen and he has my Twitter account pulled up. My stomach flips when I see the tweet I sent out last week.

“I... uh... I guess I got hacked, Coach!” I exclaim, batting my eyelids at him innocently.

“No, I don’t think you got hacked,” he replies skeptically. “Why don’t you read it out loud so everyone knows what we’re talking about?”

I swallow nervously. A few of the guys start chuckling.

“TFW your coaches are assholes,” I read out. I hear a few gasps and everyone shuts up.

“Uh-huh. Can you tell me what _TFW_ stands for?” Coach Finstock asks.

“I don’t remember, Coach. I think it's just a typo...” I respond with the best ‘confused’ voice I can come up with.

“It means _that feeling when_ ,” Coach Hale answers, glaring at me.

Oh, come ON. I think, locking eyes and glaring back at him.

“I see,” Coach Finstock starts. “So, Bilinski. You feel that your coaches are assholes?”

“No, SIR, I don’t!” I reply with mock enthusiasm.

“Obviously you do,” he states. “And that feeling must be so strong you felt like you needed to say it publicly online. Do you remember the Athletic Department Rules you signed at the beginning of the season?” he asks.

Here we go. He’s on a power trip again.

“Yes, Coach,” I mumble.

“Do you remember what it says about athlete behavior, on and off the field, in and out of school?”

“Yessssss, Coach,” I reply, dryly.

“Do you think the type of disrespect you’ve shown to me and Coach Hale is acceptable?”

“No, Coach,” I sigh, overreacting on purpose with a pout.

“Bilinski, you’re not taking me seriously. Disrespecting a member of the Athletic Department staff gets you benched for a game,” Coach Finstock starts.

I stop for a second. I don’t really want to be in trouble and have to ride the bench. I'm finally a good enough player that I've actually been _playing_ in games! If I'm benched, my dad will find out and then I'll _really_ be in for it!

"Wait, Coach, do I _have_ to ride the bench?" I ask, with a bit of pleading in my voice.

“Absolutely, and that's not all you're getting,” he confirms. My stomach twists. “You’ve shown disrespect to me, and also to Coach Hale… _and_ you posted this on Twitter! You publicly disrespected the entire team, and you're being defiant during this chat.”

Oh no, I think when I realize what he’s about to say. The other guys must realize too, because it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop in the locker room.

Then Coach Finstock says a phrase that both excites me and makes me a little nervous:

“You’re getting paddled for this.”

Don’t think of me the wrong way. Like I said earlier, as much of a goofball that I can be sometimes, I still try to stay out of serious trouble. I’ve never actually done anything to get paddled before. This one guy on our team, Jackson, got a little cocky a few games into the season and ended up getting paddled by Coach Finstock. Even though the rest of us didn’t _see_ it happen, we sure _heard_ it. And _trust_ me... if it changed _Jackson's_ attitude, it must have been pretty bad!

Coach can get really energetic, and even seem a little crazy sometimes. He has a reputation for swinging hard when he wacks your ass. I’ve always been secretly curious about what he actually does when he paddles you, but it would be weird for me to ask anyone what it's like. Little did I know a simple tweet would earn me some swats to find out for myself!

My heart is racing, and I’m nervous, but still a little more excited than I should be, so I try to play it cool in front of the other guys and make light of the trouble I'm in.

“Sorry, Coach, you’re right,” I respond, trying my best to cover up my lie. Coach Finstock looks satisfied at my apology, but Coach Hale looks at me skeptically with a raised eyebrow, like he's somehow reading my mind. What is this dude’s _problem_?

“If you do the crime, you gotta do the time, I say,” looking around the room at the other guys. “I’ll go get showered, finish up and stop in your office to get it over with,” I add, trying to take control of the situation. I turn to head back to my locker.

“Freeze,” Coach Finstock orders. “We’re doing this right here, right now.”

I stop in my tracks and raise my eyebrows in mock surprise at the other guys. Some are trying hard not to grin. Scott makes eye contact with me and has a look of concern on his face. Jackson looks oddly traumatized, and his best friend Danny, is standing next to him with a big smirk on his face. Is he checking me out? I've always wondered if I'm attractive to gay guys...

Then I realize why he's really grinning. No one has ever been paddled out here in the open as long as any of us have been on the team. This is definitely going to be different. What a great opportunity to put on a show, I think!

“Okay, Coach. If you’re really that excited to beat my ass, let’s do it now!” I say with a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

Coach Finsotck lunges towards me, but Coach Hale stops him before he can grab me.

“You think this is FUNNY?” he yells, trying to grab my arm. “GET OVER THERE!” he points to the center of the room. He’s right in my face, and his outburst catches me off guard.

“OKAY!!!” I yell back.

I walk over and stand in front of a low, wide bench. The rest of the guys are all by their lockers, in a semicircle around the walls of the room.

“Bend over, hands flat on the bench,” Coach Finstock commands.

“Yes SIR!” I reply mockingly. I lean forward and place my hands flat, as I was told. My bare ass is now on display for everyone to get a good look at. Most importantly, both of my _coaches_ now get a good long look at it. Wonder what they think? I shuffle on my feet and wag my ass back and forth a little bit.

Coach Finstock heads into the office. I’m surprised when I look over my shoulder at Coach Hale. He’s staring at my ass! My dick starts to get slightly excited. 

I want to focus on my hard-on, but I’m immediately distracted by Coach Finstock coming back into the locker room with the paddle. Holy wow... It’s thick and solid, with holes drilled into it! The only guys who ever _see_ it are the ones who actually _feel_ it used on them... its appearance anywhere else is very rare.

Coach Finstock sets it against my ass, and I feel the cool wood sliding across my sweaty cheeks. 

“Should have charged everyone admission!” I joke. Some of the guys laugh.

“Enough!” Coach Finstock barks. “Repeat after me, Bilinski.”

“My coaches...”

“My coachessssss...” I repeat with emphasis, shaking my head.

Wack!   
  
In the heat of the moment, I think of a strategy and clench my cheeks as the paddle connects with my ass. It actually feels like I dodged some of the impact. I’m so pumped up on adrenaline, I barely even feel it.

“Are not...” he says next.

“Are... not?” I repeat as a question to screw with him, clenching my cheeks again.

Wack!!

That’s as hard as he’s going to swing? This is child’s play, I think to myself.

“Assholes!” he exclaims.

“Ass-hoooooles!” I repeat with emphasis on the second syllable. I make sure to clench a third time.

Wack!!!

“Owwww!” I exclaim over-dramatically. “I’m sorry, Coach! Oh man, am I sorry! You really taught me a lesson!” I wink at the few guys I can see from where I’m standing.

“We’re not done yet,” he replies. “I don’t think you’re learning as much from this as you should. Get up on the bench on your hands and knees.”

For _real_? I think. This is AWESOME! I climb up onto the bench on my hands and knees. Then I realize it _isn’t_ so awesome, since I have no choice but to keep my ass sticking out. I can’t clench my cheeks to avoid the paddle any more....

I'm stunned when Coach Finstock hands the paddle to Coach Hale.

“I know you’ve never done this before, but Bilinski can be your first,” he says to him.

Oh FUCK yeah, I’d love to be Coach Hale’s _first_ in more ways than one, I think. My dick starts to get harder.

“Ten more swats should really teach him a lesson,” he announces.

"Wait, ten _more_!?" I exclaim, kneeling up. A lot of the guys start laughing and pointing at my crotch. When I got out of position, I exposed my hard dick to everyone. It's pointing straight up. I blush and try to cover myself, but I lose my balance and almost fall sideways off of the bench. Coach Hale reaches out with one hand and stops me from falling.

"Yes, Bilinski. Ten more," Coach Finstock confirms.

"If you accept your additional punishment, kneel back down," Coach Hale instructs, after a few seconds.

I hesitate and then nod at him. If he only knew how many times I’ve imagined him telling me to kneel down for _another_ reason, I think, as I get back into position.

Coach Hale stands next to me and places his left hand on my back. My heart starts pounding when I feel him make contact with my skin, and I sense him hesitate for a second. He taps the paddle against my ass a few times and takes couple of practice swings.

“Too bad no one has any popcorn!” I start to say. “You guys could...”

CRACK!

Well, SHIT!

He gave me a solid swat without warning. And, damn... that one actually _hurt_! I immediately shut up.

CRACK!

Another one right away. He can really hit hard! A grunt escapes from my mouth.

CRACK! CRACK!

“Whoaaaahhh!” I yell without meaning to. I’m starting to feel it! My ass is on fire, but for some reason, my dick is rock-hard. It’s betraying me to the other guys, but I don’t care at this point. I’m too far gone from the pain.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

“Okay! OKAY!!” I cry out. Three in a ROW? Is this guy SERIOUS?

“Last three,” Coach Finstock calls out. “Let this be a lesson in respect to ALL of you. I will NOT put up with behavior like this from ANYONE!”

This is my chance, I think. I turn and look Coach Hale in the eye. 

“Do me good, Coach!” I whisper with a wink as I arch my back, presenting my ass to him. The adrenaline must really be getting to my brain because, for a second, it almost looks like his eyes flash red. I blink my eyes and shake my head, squinting to be sure, but his eyes are back to their normal color.

Coach Hale smirks, shaking his head and giving a little snort.

“Smartass. I’ll ‘do’ you...” he mumbles. He pushes down on my back and I end up on my elbows, totally exposed and bent over. In this position, my cheeks are spread so far apart there’s no way he can’t see my hole. I thrust my hips back and forth a little bit.

I feel Coach Hale line the paddle up on my ass. I brace myself for the last swats.

CRACK!

“Oooh!” I cry out.

CRACK!

“Yes!” I exclaim.

CRACK!! One final swat, harder than the rest of them slams into my ass, thrusting me forward.

“YEAHHH!” I yell.

The guys all burst into applause. I look around the room, grinning.

“SHUT UP!” Coach Finstock yells, red in the face. “Everyone hit the showers and get out of here! Or you’ll be next!”

The guys stop clapping and start scrambling.

He turns to me.

“I don’t know what kind of sick show you just put on, but I’ll figure out a more appropriate way to punish you another day. Stay there until everyone’s gone, then get your ass out of here,” he says with anger.

“Yes SIR!” I reply with a grin. He glares at me in disgust and walks away.

Even though my ass is on fire and I really want to rub it, I stay bent down, exposed, as the other guys shower and get dressed. I start re-playing what just happened in my head, my dick still rock hard. A line of pre-cum oozes down from it and sticks on the bench.

I start to get a little nervous when I think about my dad finding out why I've been benched at our game tomorrow. I'll be in for more pain when he punishes me at home tomorrow night, but I forget about that when Scott and Isaac, then Jackson and Danny stop by as they’re leaving.

"Are you okay, buddy?" Scott asks me gently.

"I'm fine, bro," I respond with a smile.

“Dude, you’re a legend!” Isaac says. “The guys couldn’t stop talking about this in the shower!”

“I sure as hell didn’t take _my_ paddling like that,” Jackson admits.

Danny just looks me over again.

"Stop staring at him. Let's go!" Jackson nudges, prodding Danny away. Is he _jealous_ of me?

I smile to myself. Well, this was a success!

After everyone’s cleared out, Coach Hale comes into the locker room.

“Alright, _Stilinski_ , you can leave,” he says, emphasizing my last name correctly. Oh... so he _does_ know who I am!

I stand up, my dick fully hard, and stretch my arms, showing off my thick sweaty pit hair to him. His nostrils flare, and I realize he's probably getting a really good whiff of me right now. Then I run my fingers down my chest, my happy trail and through my bush.

“Enjoy yourself, big guy?” I ask him, wiggling my eyebrows. He doesn’t say anything, but he’s definitely staring at my hard, dripping cock. His lips curl a tiny bit.

“I was impressed by your performance,” he says, extending his hand. 

So he DID enjoy it, I think with pride. My dick swells more. I reach out and shake his hand. When I do, I feel a weird rush surging up from my ass, down my arm and into my hand. Suddenly, I don’t feel any more pain!

WHAT was THAT? I wonder to myself. Coach Hale notices my confusion, and distracts me by pointing down at my hard dick.

“Now, go take care of yourself,” he says with a wink, turning and heading back to the office.

 _That's_ an order I _don’t_ mind following. I can’t get myself into one of the bathroom stalls fast enough!


End file.
